


keep me safe inside (your arms like towers)

by glowinghorizons



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4804547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/glowinghorizons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bellamy looks at her, really looks at her, and reminds himself that she’s only just turned eighteen. She’s still a kid, and suddenly he’s aware of how much stronger than him she is. Only eighteen, yet she’s taken it upon herself to make sure these kids survive life on the ground.</p>
<p>“I trust you,” he tells her, and he’s only a little surprised to realize that it’s the complete truth."</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>season one AU. the 100 are sent to the ground and learn how to survive. bellamy and clarke fight to keep a peace treaty alive when the ark comes down, and find each other along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep me safe inside (your arms like towers)

**Author's Note:**

> i've always wanted to do a season one rewrite. this is different than anything i've ever written before, so i have to thank the lovely katy for being my beta and helping me find some confidence.
> 
> disclaimer: i don't own the 100, any of the characters, or the song i used as inspiration for the piece and for the title, which is "we are broken" by paramore.

Clarke used to wonder what it would be like to live on Earth, but she never thought it would be like this.

 

At age seventeen, she’s sent to the ground. She gets to the ground in a rickety metal ship, everyone around her screaming, and she’s convinced that she’s going to die. There’s no way they secured the ship in enough time to get everyone to the ground in one piece.

 

In a few minutes, it’s over. The silence is unsettling, after years and years of living on a spaceship with the constant hum of machinery running in the background. When a boy (man, really, he _has_ to be older than everyone else on the ship) wants to open the doors, she shouts for him to stop, and he glances at her like she’s nothing.

 

She thinks she hates him on sight. She hates the way he looks at her — like she’s just some stuck-up teenager who doesn’t know anything and who doesn’t fit in with anyone else.

 

She hates that she thinks he’s right.

 

The first few days are tough. Everyone fights, and there’s a constant battle over who’s in charge and who makes the rules. Bellamy Blake puts himself in charge and tells everyone there’s no rules, and Clarke rolls her eyes and does her best to keep as many people alive as possible.

 

They almost lose Jasper, and Octavia, and Clarke has never believed in the old adage of “if you want something done right, do it yourself” more than she does when she decides to put herself in charge.

 

Bellamy fights her on it. He calls her every name in the book. He tells her she’s privileged and calls her _princess_ and when he says the word she’s heard all her life, he spits it at her, says it with venom, and she spends that night crying herself to sleep in her tent, hating herself for being upset and hating him for making her that way.

 

Octavia comes to her tent that night to check on her, and Clarke bites back a grin when she hears the younger girl yelling at her brother from where his tent sits not too far from hers.

 

.

.

.

 

The next day, there’s a pack of rations waiting for her outside her door, and when she glances around, she meets Bellamy’s eyes, and when he shrugs, she figures that’s the best apology she’s going to get.

 

.

.

.

 

There are days where Bellamy isn’t sure if they’re going to survive. There’s a string of attacks, and he doesn’t know how to stop them, or how to protect these kids that he’s trying hard not to admit he’s starting to care for.

 

It’s made harder by the fact that Clarke hasn’t spoken to him in three days, after he screamed at her for endangering Octavia’s life when the two of them went to the river without telling him, and Octavia fell in.

 

_“She can’t swim, Clarke! How reckless can you be?!”_

 

_“She was in the water for less than a minute! I dragged her out!”_

 

_“She never should have been there in the first place.”_

 

_“She was helping me look for herbs. I won’t apologize for that. I’m sorry she’s shaken up, but she asked to come with me. She’s trying to learn from me.”_

 

_“She’s my responsibility, not yours. She can learn something else.”_

 

_Clarke scoffs, “Oh, sure. You want her to learn something from Monty or Jasper? How about Harper? She could show her how to wield a knife, that would make you happier, wouldn’t it?”_

 

_Bellamy grits his teeth, takes two strides closer to Clarke, his eyes blazing. “You don’t get to make decisions about my sister.”_

 

_Clarke doesn’t flinch, just tilts her chin up and glares right back at him. “And you don’t get to tell me what to do. I’ve had it with your alpha male bullshit, Bellamy.”_

 

_“If you would just think before you act, then we wouldn’t be standing here—“_

 

_“I don’t have time for this,” Clarke says, “I need to check on your sister — something you should be doing too, by the way — and I don’t need your permission to do my job.”_

 

 

Deep down, Bellamy knows that Clarke would never put anyone in danger. He also knows that he can get overprotective when it comes to Octavia, but he doesn’t know how to turn that part of himself off. He doesn’t know how to convince himself that Octavia is going to be okay, that she’s not going to be taken away from him again, that he doesn’t have to make up for ruining her life and their mother’s at the same time.

 

Bellamy clenches his jaw at the thought, but is interrupted by Harper.

 

“Miller is looking for you,” she says, and Bellamy sighs. What’s more likely is that Clarke needs something, but is still refusing to talk to him directly, so now Miller has become a go-between.

 

Sure enough, when Bellamy finds Miller by the bonfire in the center of the camp, his friend is standing there with his arms crossed, glaring at the ground.

 

“Hey,” Bellamy says when he approaches.

 

“Don’t ‘ _hey_ ’ me,” Miller grumbles, “You and Clarke need to sort this out.”

 

“Talk to her, she’s the one—“

 

Miller holds up a hand, “Yeah, yeah, she said the same thing to me. Just get married already,” Miller says under his breath, but Bellamy hears it anyway, and looks at his friend with what he hopes is an expression that shows how very not-funny he is.

 

“Clarke told Harper to tell me to tell _you_ ,” Miller rolls his eyes, “that she needs some more plants to make a painkiller or something with.”

 

“Tell Harper—“

 

“No,” Miller shakes his head, “No. This is crazy. Just go tell Clarke yourself! You’re idiots. The both of you.”

 

Anyone else and Bellamy would have punched them, but instead he just turns around and storms into the dropship, looking for Clarke.

 

“Clarke!”

 

“I’m right here, you don’t have to yell.”

 

Bellamy turns around to see Clarke standing by one of the shelves that they’ve put up for medicine stores in the ship, and narrows his eyes at her back.

 

“Are you planning on speaking to me in the near future?”

 

“Not really, no.”

 

Bellamy sighs, “We can’t keep doing this.”

 

Clarke huffs before she turns around and faces him. He’s struck for a minute by how tired she looks. She has dark circles under her eyes, and they don’t seem as bright as they usually do, especially when she’s gearing up for a fight with him.

 

( _Bellamy tries not to think about how he’s noticed what her eyes look like when she argues with him. It’s not a place he wants to go, not now, not when he’s too angry with her_ )

 

“We can’t lead anyone if we’re too mad to even talk to each other.”

 

Clarke’s shoulders slump, and Bellamy feels a little of the fight leave him.

 

“I know,” she says, “I know.”

 

“Look, I’m sorry for getting on your case about Octavia. I just hate the thought of her getting hurt when I’m not there to protect her.”

 

“This is only going to work if you trust me,” Clarke says, “and that starts with trusting me to take care of our people too.”

 

Bellamy looks at her, really looks at her, and reminds himself that she’s only just turned eighteen. She’s still a kid, and suddenly he’s aware of how much stronger than him she is. Only eighteen, yet she’s taken it upon herself to make sure these kids survive life on the ground.

 

“I trust you,” he tells her, and he’s only a little surprised to realize that it’s the complete truth.

 

.

.

.

 

They aren’t alone on the ground.

 

There are people out there, people who survived the Cataclysm. Grounders.

 

At first, there are casualties. Bellamy figures out that these are the same people who have been attacking their camp at night, and the same people who tried to kidnap his sister and almost kill Jasper. Clarke is prepared for Bellamy to fly off the handle and start an all out war against the Grounders, but he surprises her when he agrees with Finn that they need to establish a truce.

 

The kids are naive and jumpy, ready to attack anyone and anything different from what they had become accustomed to in space. When they find guns in a bunker nearby, they feel somewhat safer, but they don’t have the numbers to take on an entire Grounder army.

 

In the end, it takes all of Clarke and Bellamy’s strength to convince the Grounders that they don’t want a war, that they just want peace. They just want to survive.

 

A peace treaty is brought to fruition on a rainy day inside the Grounders’ settlement, across the river from their camp. Bellamy and Clarke stand shoulder to shoulder across from Anya and Indra, two representatives of the Grounders. Behind Clarke and Bellamy are Miller and Octavia, representing the rest of the 100.

 

They shake hands with Indra and Anya, and sign their names on an ancient looking piece of parchment. Deep down, Clarke thinks Bellamy might be more excited to be part of history than he is about the treaty itself, and bites back a grin at the thought.

 

As they walk back to the camp, Clarke feels a weight off her shoulders the closer and closer they get to the dropship, and she can’t help the smile that breaks out on her face as she and Bellamy walk side by side, Octavia skipping along ahead of them, Miller bringing up the rear.

 

“What’s that smile for?” Bellamy asks, and he sounds amused. Clarke wonders if it’s the first time he’s seen her smile since they’ve landed on the ground.

 

“Oh, no reason,” Clarke eyes him quickly, biting her lip, “Just thought it was funny that Octavia and Lincoln couldn’t stop staring at each other the entire time we were in the tent, that’s all.” Clarke holds back her laughter at the look on Bellamy’s face and speeds up to catch up with Octavia, hearing Bellamy call her name behind them.

 

“What?” He walks faster, trying to catch up to her, “Clarke? Which one is Lincoln?! Clarke!”

 

.

.

.

 

The days following the truce are tense, but easier than before. They still can’t quite get used to the idea that they don’t have to necessarily be prepared to defend themselves at every second, but it’s getting easier.

 

With a peace treaty comes tentative friendships, and that is possibly the best part of their shaky peace treaty. However, there are still some of the 100 that don’t trust the Grounders and probably never will, and that’s been the hardest part for Clarke. She tries so hard to rid her people of prejudice, but it doesn’t always work, and she’s terrified that one day they’ll have to pay for someone’s stupidity.

 

Clarke becomes the full time doctor of the camp and spends a lot of her time patching up scrapes and cuts, and even sometimes more serious injuries, having to fashion crutches for broken ankles and sprained knees out of branches.

 

Harper and Octavia spend a lot of time in the medical tent, watching over Clarke’s shoulder as she tends to wounds, and they’re fast learners. Soon, Clarke is only there a few times a day, the younger girls handling the routine procedures well enough on their own.

 

Clarke and Bellamy spend more time together than ever before. They’ve managed to lead their people this far, and she knows that the newfound friendship between them is already one of the most precious things she’s discovered on the ground. Underneath it all, Bellamy Blake is a loyal, fiercely protective, kind person. He does whatever he thinks is right and leads with his heart, which is why she supposes they balance each other out so well.

 

Occasionally, when the night is winding down, Bellamy stops by the dropship when Clarke is cleaning up after a long day, and they sit there for hours, talking and giving each other a rundown on how their days have gone. At first it’s nothing more than a debriefing, but after awhile, she finds herself looking forward to their time alone.

 

She admires Bellamy for his strength and tenacity, and she finds herself constantly wanting to reassure him that he’s loyal and kind, and smart, and that his intelligence is the only thing keeping them alive.

 

“I used to love history,” he tells her one night while she’s making fresh bandages from some supplies they found at a bunker nearby. She freezes, knowing that Bellamy doesn’t give tidbits about himself out freely. “I think what I loved about it the most was the look on Octavia’s face when I would tell her stories. History was all the glimpse at the world she ever got.” He lowers his head, swallowing hard.

 

Clarke finds herself drifting closer to him without thinking, sitting next to him close enough that their arms brush with every breath they take. “I’ve heard Octavia telling stories to some of the younger kids at night,” she offers, “If she’s as good at it as you are, I’d say you did a pretty good job giving her that glimpse.”

 

The smile he sends her way afterwards is practically blinding, and the way he’s looking at her is the first time he’s ever looked at her like that -- like he’s seeing her for the first time -- and she finds that she has to look away.

 

.

.

.

 

Some of the younger kids begin following Bellamy around like ducklings after a while. There are only a few of them who are under ten, and the youngest is six.

 

(He was put in the Sky Box when both of his parents were floated, and it’s so unfair that Clarke wants to scream.)

 

It breaks Clarke’s heart that they’re separated from their families, but Harper and Monty keep them occupied most of the time, and well, it takes a village, as the saying goes.

 

The first time she notices them following Bellamy around, she stifles a laugh at the look on his face, part amusement, part exasperation as they trail after him, tip toeing, and when he turns to look behind him, they all freeze, almost like they think if they don’t move, he won’t see them. A few of them start giggling, and Clarke feels a sudden swell of affection for her co-leader well up inside of her when he purposefully looks over their heads, acting like he doesn’t see them.

 

“Bellamy!” One of the youngest cries, waving his hands.

 

“That’s so weird,” Bellamy says, his voice thick with exaggeration as he puts his hands on his hips, “I could have sworn I heard a voice somewhere, but I don’t see anyone!”

 

“Bellamy!” They all chorus, until he finally looks down, looking shocked to see them there.

 

“Where did you guys come from?!” He asks, and they squeal in delight as he starts to chase them around.

 

Clarke finally lets her laughter escape her, and when Bellamy meets her eyes as he hoists little Tim above his head as the little boy shrieks, Clarke thinks she sees some of that affection mirrored back at her.

 

.

.

.

 

Bellamy and Finn are arguing. It’s been sort of a never-ending cycle between the two of them — Finn disagrees with how Bellamy is handling a situation, and Bellamy basically tells him to shut up.

 

At first, Clarke thinks it’s just some sort of macho power play thing, but Finn keeps saying that he has no interest being in charge, and Clarke gets a strange feeling that she’s somehow stuck in between the two boys.

 

She doesn’t like it.

 

“You have to cut this out,” she tells Bellamy one night while they’re sorting through the rations they still have left. “We need all the help we can get around here, and you constantly telling him he doesn’t matter isn’t going to make any of this any easier.”

 

Bellamy scowls, “I’m not the one with the problem,” he mutters. “He’s the one who insists on fighting me over every single little detail.”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes, “I didn’t say you were the one with the problem, I’m just saying that we can’t afford to have our leader and our best tracker always at each other’s throats.”

 

“Maybe you should try giving him this speech. He’s determined not to like me, and he clearly feels differently about you.”

 

Clarke gapes at him, trying to understand the sudden bitterness in his tone. “What are you talking about?”

 

Bellamy’s eyes are impossibly dark in the muted glow of the tent, and something flashes in them before he breaks their gaze, looking away. “Nothing. Never mind.”

 

They don’t talk about Finn again.

 

.

.

.

 

They first get word from the Ark in the late spring. The comms tent has been a hub of activity for the last few days, ever since Monty heard a faint voice through the static that they’ve all become familiar with. Clarke stands still, leaning against one wall as Monty tries to get through to them, her whole body tense.

 

“Relax, Princess,” Bellamy says quietly over her shoulder, and she glares at him.

 

“This is serious, Bellamy.”

 

“You don’t have to be afraid of them anymore,” he says back to her, eyes fierce, “They can’t do anything from up there. We don’t belong to them anymore.”

 

Clarke doesn’t stick around once she recognizes whose voice is coming through the static — her mother’s.

 

.

.

.

 

Three days later, a pod comes crashing down near the Dropsite and Clarke wants to cry because it’s a _girl_ and she looks like she’s barely alive.

 

Clarke’s hands shake as she and Bellamy pull the girl out, and Clarke freezes when she hears her mutter Finn’s name. The boy in question is nowhere to be found, and Clarke can only concentrate on getting this girl back to camp before she dies.

 

Clarke saves her life, but barely. She needs her mother’s help to do it, and she grits her teeth the entire time her Mom and Jackson walk her through the procedure, hearing her Mom’s voice choked with tears.

 

She takes a deep breath when it’s over, and shoots a grateful look in Miller’s direction when he tells Abby that Clarke needs to step out, and shuts off the comm. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be ready to talk to her mother. She wants to talk to her to find out what’s happening on the Ark, she wants to talk to her to find out how Wells is doing, up there all by himself with his father.

 

She doesn’t ask her any of those things, though, just steps outside the dropship and tries not to look at the blood on her hands.

 

“You did good, Princess,” Bellamy tells her, coming to stand next to her. If he notices the way she’s practically swaying on her feet, he doesn’t say anything.

 

“She’s Finn’s girlfriend,” Clarke blurts, not sure why it even matters anymore. “That’s why she came down here. To be with him.”

 

Bellamy is quiet, shifting on his feet next to her. “Must be nice to have someone devoted like that,” he muses.

 

Clarke doesn’t say anything, she just sighs and tries not to feel like the entire world is suddenly resting on her shoulders. Bellamy’s words ring in her head, and she thinks, yeah, it would be nice to have someone like Finn has Raven.

 

.

.

.

 

The summer heat brings storms that they’re not remotely prepared to deal with, and during a particularly rough thunderstorm, Bellamy gets caught outside of camp with Miller and two other kids, and Clarke doesn’t sleep a wink that night. She lays there, eyes wide open, watching the lightning through the material of her tent, and wonders if they’re okay. She feels a knot form in her stomach at the thought of Bellamy not returning to camp. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do if he doesn’t come back.

 

The next morning, he and Miller limp back into camp with the other two boys’ help, and Clarke practically launches herself at them, one arm around Bellamy’s neck and the other around Miller’s. “Don’t ever do that again,” she hisses when they hug her back. “Don’t.”

 

“You worry too much, princess,” Bellamy chides, but there’s something fond in his voice.

 

Even with all her worries, Clarke feels lighter than she has in years living on the Ground. All the work they do in the daytime building structures and hunting makes them all strong, and spending time outside tans their skin and makes their hair light. They find a lake and spend hot summer days there — it becomes the central hub on steamy days.

 

Raven is still healing from the crash, but the water makes her muscles ache less, and she gets stronger every single day. Now, she’s laying on her back near the water, a small, content smile on her face as the sun shines down on her. Finn is nearby, he always is, and even _he_ doesn’t argue with Bellamy when Bellamy suggests they take the afternoon off.

 

Bellamy rigs a rope up on one of the branches that hangs over the lake, and he and Octavia run in up to their knees, splashing each other and laughing harder than they have in months. Clarke is so thankful to have these people with her; she realizes one warm day, watching Monty and Jasper try to build a raft out of logs so some of the younger kids can go out on the water.

 

Some of the Grounders teach them how to swim and how to dive in like swans. Grounder kids start to spend more and more time at the dropship, and soon there’s a clear path between the two camps made by people who are constantly trekking back and forth. They trade metals and teach basic mechanics to the Grounders in exchange for seeds and furs, and it all seems too good to be true.

 

That should have been Clarke’s first red flag. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are.

 

.

.

.

 

It’s a warm night in what they think is July when the streaks in the sky grow too large to be shooting stars, and in the middle of the night, a terrible crash shakes the ground, startling Clarke from her sleep. The flash of an explosion follows, and for a minute, Clarke can’t see a thing.

 

When she stumbles out of her tent, half blind and scrambling for her boots, Bellamy is already halfway to the opening of her tent, one arm outstretched like he’s reaching for her.

 

“Clarke?!”

 

“I’m here,” she says, her tone worried.

 

“Something crashed—“

 

“It’s The Ark,” she tells him, just knowing somehow deep in her bones that the fate that got her father killed has finally befallen the place they used to call home. “It’s too big to be anything else.”

 

“We need to go to Anya… they’ll think that we—“

 

“I know,” Clarke says, already feeling a headache forming. “Get Miller and Octavia. Let’s go.”

 

And that’s how on a morning when she should be thinking about if her mother is still alive, she ends up running through the forest, just hoping that she’ll get to the village before the Grounders think this is another attack. “They can’t… they can’t, it’ll ruin the truce…” She realizes she’s muttering out loud when Bellamy grips her elbow.

 

“It’ll be okay, Clarke.” He’s saying, his voice low and gentle, and she’s reminded for a moment what a protective instinct he has, the soothing nature of his voice a testament to how long he cared for Octavia.

 

They end up meeting Anya and some of her guard on the trail that connects their camps, and Anya’s voice is pure steel when she speaks, making Clarke’s heart race.

 

“We were on our way to find you,” she says, her eyes calculating. “There was a crash.”

 

“We saw it. We were coming to you,” Bellamy says. “We think it’s more of our people.”

 

No one speaks for a long, tense moment, and Clarke is so, so terrified that the Ark coming down is going to ruin the fragile friendships and trust that they’ve built with Anya’s tribe.

 

“We will wait for you to recover any of your people and tend to your wounded,” Anya says finally. “Tell them the terms of our treaty. Teach them where the boundaries lie. If anyone does not comply with the terms, we will take it as a direct attack.”

 

She fades away into the trees after that, and through the early morning fog that was beginning to settle over them, Clarke knows that if they don’t leave now, they won’t be able to help anyone on the Ark. “Bellamy—“

 

“If you want to go help them, go.”

 

“What?”

 

“Princess, those people sent us down here to die. They fully intended to never see us again. Why would we help them?”

 

“That’s not true!” Clarke protests, fury growing inside her as she glares at the stubborn boy in front of her. “The Ark was running out of oxygen!”

 

She’s aware of Miller and Octavia staring at her, watching as her chest heaves with anxiety and what’s beginning to feel like a panic attack. She needs to get to the Ark, to see if her mother is alive, to see if anyone is alive — “They floated my Dad because he told them they weren’t going to make it.”

 

Bellamy’s eyes soften as he looks at her, but he doesn’t budge on his position. “We’re barely in a position to help ourselves. We don’t have the supplies or any extra room in our camp. Sure, we can help with first aid, but what’s to say they won’t arrest us all again the minute they’re up and walking around?”

 

“I can’t sit here wondering if my mom is alive,” Clarke says weakly, and she sees Octavia step forward.

 

“I’ll go with her.”

 

“No—” Bellamy starts to say, but Clarke cuts him off.

 

“We can’t sit here and do nothing! That’s not who we are.” Clarke feels that familiar pricking in the back of her eyes and she hates it, hates that when she gets frustrated or angry her eyes start to well up, because she needs to be stronger. Her people need her to be stronger.

 

Bellamy takes a step closer, shuts his eyes and exhales heavily, like it pains him to say his next words, “Take Miller with you. Check on them, see if they have any casualties, but _come back_. Okay?”

 

Unable to help herself, Clarke throws her arms around his neck and breathes him in, clinging to him for a second. “Thank you,” she whispers, and when they break apart, she punches him on the arm.

 

“Ow! What the hell, Clarke—“

 

“That’s for thinking you can give me orders and get away with it.”

 

Bellamy looks amused after he gets over his shock, and glances at Miller who is clearly trying not to laugh. “I’m not an idiot, princess. You would have found a way to sneak out anyway.”

 

“We better get going, Clarke.” Miller says, and she remembers that his Dad is a guard, and Miller is probably feeling the same strange mix of dread and anxiety that she is.

 

“Be safe,” Octavia calls after them, and Clarke thinks she can feel Bellamy’s gaze on them until they reach the tree line and are out of sight.

 

.

.

.

 

It’s chaos when Miller and Clarke approach the crash site. “ _Fuck_ ,” Miller curses, watching as people scream and try desperately to put out the fires that happened when bits and pieces of the Ark broke off on landing.

 

“I don’t know where to start—“ Clarke says, but stops when suddenly there’s a man with a rifle pointing it right at her.

 

“Don’t move!” He shouts, and Clarke realizes how they must look — kids, in torn up clothes, their hair and faces dirty. They don’t even look like they’re from the Ark anymore.

 

“Put it down,” Miller growls back, and steps slightly in front of Clarke, gripping his own gun tight in his hand.

 

Before Clarke can say anything, there are more members of the guard surrounding them, and when they close in on her, she reaches for Miller out of instinct, feeling him grip her arm so tight it hurts.

 

“Wait!” She shouts, “We’re here to help, we just—“ she’s cut off as she’s pulled away from Miller forcibly and whips around to look for him as she hears him shout her name.

 

Chaos seems to erupt around them as the guards close in, and she tries to speak to them, tries to tell them that her mother is here, that all they want to do is help, but no one is listening, and she can hear shouting to her left, and she knows Miller is putting up a fight. She wants to tell him to stop before he gets hurt, but she doesn’t have time to think anything else. She feels a blow to the back of her head, and then it all gets dark.

 

.

.

.

 

Four days.

 

It’s been four days since anyone has seen Clarke and Miller, and the tightening in Bellamy’s gut whenever he thinks about it only worsens the longer time goes on without them.

 

He’s conferred with the Grounders, and no one in their camp has seen or heard from them either, although they have scouts watching the crash site who have been told to keep an eye out for either of them.

 

People are getting antsy, and Bellamy knows he needs to come up with a plan, but he can’t seem to think. His thoughts have been muddled for four days, and he knows deep down in the back of his mind why.

 

Ever since Clarke left, he hasn’t been himself.

 

It’s almost stupid, he thinks, how he hadn’t realized it sooner. Somewhere between the fighting and trying to survive, Clarke has managed to sneak past all the defenses he has around himself, and now he finds himself fighting off a combination of anger and sheer panic at the thought that she and Miller might be hurt somewhere, or gotten themselves captured…

 

He shakes his head to stop the negative thoughts and consoles himself with the knowledge that Clarke and Miller can both take care of themselves, and each other. He sent Miller with Clarke for a reason. Nathan Miller might seem stoic and grumpy on the outside, but Bellamy knows him. Miller has a soft spot for nearly everyone in their camp, and wouldn’t let anything happen to Clarke as long as he could stop it.

 

It’s that thought alone that stops Bellamy from going after them himself. It wouldn’t be smart for him to just go off traipsing in the woods, “guns blazing” as Octavia so succinctly put it.

 

“We don’t even know that anything is actually wrong,” Raven points out, and Bellamy nods in agreement, scrubbing his hand over his face.

 

“You’re right, I know that, I just…”

 

“You don’t want to just sit here while she’s out there.”

 

Bellamy freezes, gaping at her. “I’m not— I don’t—“

 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Besides, we all know this camp would go to shit if Clarke and Miller weren’t around to keep you in line,” she teases, and he finds himself laughing bitterly, although he agrees with her.

 

There’s a commotion outside the tent, and Bellamy lurches to his feet, his heart in this throat, and when he gets outside, he sees Finn trying to wrestle a gun away from one of the kids assigned to patrol that night, and he sprints into action. “Hey!” He bellows, and everyone freezes. “What in the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

 

“I’m going after her,” Finn snarls, “Since you’re apparently not going to do anything about it!”

 

Next to Bellamy, Raven tenses, and Bellamy feels (not for the first time) like a punch to the face is exactly what the doctor ordered when it comes to Finn Collins.

 

“We’re trying to plan our next move, not go on a rampage,” Bellamy says, voice low.

 

Finn glowers at him, and Bellamy resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knew, he just _knew_ that Collins had some sort of weird crush on Clarke. He didn’t think that it was going to start threatening the safety of his people, however, and now Bellamy is going to have to do something about it, on top of worrying about his best friend, and the girl he—

 

He cuts off that train of thought, grimacing. He turns his attention back to Finn. “I think you need to calm down, and get rid of the gun.”

 

“If you’re going after them, I’m coming too,” Finn says.

 

“Great. You don’t need a gun.”

 

Finn opens his mouth to protest, but snaps it shut and frowns as he glances at something over Bellamy’s shoulder.

 

“What?” Bellamy nearly groans, turning around expecting another fight to be breaking out, but he freezes when instead he sees movement from the other side of the gate. “Don’t open it,” he orders, his voice pitched low, and the kids on guard settle their guns on their shoulders.

 

There’s a few tense moments as Bellamy battles within himself about what to do next, and when he decides, he shoulders his own rifle, striding towards the gate. “Rifles at the ready,” he tells Monroe and Myles, who are positioned at the top of the gate, looking warily down at whoever is waiting for the gate to be opened.

 

“It’s Vice Chancellor Kane, Bellamy,” Monroe says, and Bellamy hates the way her voice cracks as she says his name, the name of the man who was probably at least partially responsible for all of them getting locked up, and all of them getting sent down to Earth to die.

 

“Open it,” Bellamy says, his voice pure steel as he feels anger and hatred fill his veins. He knows he needs to calm down, but he has too many thoughts running rampant in his head to be able to think clearly. _This is why you need Clarke,_ his mind supplies, _she’s the brains of the operation_.

 

The gate creaks open slowly, and everyone in the camp seems to freeze as they wait for their visitors to come into full view. When Bellamy sees Kane, he feels a strange sense of satisfaction at the sight of ugly scrapes and bruises marring the older man’s face.

 

“Mr. Blake,” Kane says, coming to a stop a few feet in front of Bellamy.

 

“Kane.”

 

“This is quite the camp you’ve built here.”

 

“Well, we had to do something to stay alive,” Bellamy says, his eyes narrowing. “What do you want?”

 

Bellamy’s hoping that they’re here to tell him that Clarke and Miller are with the Ark, that they’ve been running themselves ragged helping to keep the others alive, and that’s why no one has heard from them or seen them in days.

 

“We’re here to bring you back to the Ark.”

 

.

.

.

.

 

Clarke opens her eyes and groans, the light shining in her eyes too bright, too white to be the sun. Suddenly remembering what happened when she and Miller got to the crash site, she scrambles upright, looking around blearily. “Nathan,” she mutters, and startles when she feels a hand on her wrist.

 

“It’s okay, Clarke,” she hears Miller’s voice, “you’re okay,”

 

“Where are we? Are you okay? Who _hit me_?”

 

Her friend chuckles, “One at a time, Doc. We’re at the Ark. There was a… a misunderstanding with the guards. We’re in medical now.”

 

“Are you—“

 

“I’m fine. Took a little bit of a beating before they would listen to me, but I’m okay. Really.” He squeezes her hand when he can tell that she doesn’t believe him, and she at least feels a little bit of reassurance that she’s not alone. “Your Mom patched us both up,” he says, cautiously, as if he thinks she’s going to bolt.

 

“Your Dad…?”

 

“Haven’t seen him,” Miller says, swallowing thickly. “For all I know, he didn’t survive the landing.”

 

“Miller—“

 

“It’s fine. We need to leave, though. We’ve been gone a few days. Bellamy is probably losing it.”

 

Clarke felt her jaw drop, “A few _days_? How long was I out?!”

 

A muscle in Miller’s jaw ticked, “Four days. I think they sedated us both when we first got here.” He’s quiet for a few more minutes. “The door is locked from the outside.”

 

They’re both quiet as Clarke tries to figure out what they’re supposed to do in this situation. They came here to help their people, not to be treated as criminals again as soon as they got back. “Did you see the Chancellor?” She asks, suddenly feeling out of breath.

 

“No, I haven’t seen anyone,” he replies, looking annoyed, “I’ve been in here with _you_ trying to make sure that you don’t come up with some rescue plan that could get you killed,”

 

Clarke smiles sheepishly, “Sorry. I just… Why are they keeping us in here? Why did they lock the door?”

 

Miller opens his mouth to speak, but he’s interrupted by the sound of a key in a lock, and the doorknob turning slowly. When it opens, Clarke’s mother is on the other side, and Clarke feels her hands forming into fists at the sight of Abby Griffin. She hates that she feels this way. She should be overjoyed to be reunited with the only family she has left ( _except that isn’t true, is it?_ A voice in her head asks, _you have a whole different family now, and they’re all waiting for you_ )

 

“Clarke—“ Abby chokes out, before crossing the room in three strides, engulfing Clarke in a hug. She elbows Miller, who grunts, but doesn’t move out of the way.

 

“Mom,” Clarke starts, feeling tears well up in her eyes against her will.

 

“You weren’t conscious when I got here, and I—“

 

“What happened? How many are wounded? Why did you crash?”

 

“Clarke, calm down—“

 

“Look, we need to leave,” Miller says, interrupting mother and daughter, his voice harsh, “I’m sorry, but if you don’t want to accept our help, then we have a camp to get back to. They’re probably looking for us right now.”

 

“Someone is on the way right now to gather the rest of the 100,” Abby says, “They’re going to bring everyone here.”

 

Clarke splutters, “Why?! Our camp is stable and this—“ she takes a deep breath, steeling herself, “You don’t get to decide that you suddenly want us to be part of your society again. Not when you sent us all down here to die.”

 

Dimly, Clarke hears Bellamy’s voice in the back of her head saying almost the same exact words to her, and she knows that he’s right. It doesn’t stop her from feeling guilty at the stricken look on her mother’s face, but she knows that he’s right nonetheless.

 

“Clarke—“

 

“I want you to let me out of this room, with Miller, and let us find our friends. We’re not prisoners anymore,” Clarke says, as demanding as she possibly can.

 

Abby stares at her, an unreadable expression on her face, and Clarke thinks of Bellamy and Octavia, Monty and Jasper, Raven, Monroe and the countless other people who are counting on her to come back. With their faces in her mind, she straightens up to her full height and stares back at her mother.

 

Ten minutes later, they’re out of the locked room, and Miller has a tight grip on Clarke’s elbow, pulling her along as if he expects the adults to change their minds any second and try to haul them back in. “What about your Dad?” Clarke whispers, and a shadow crosses Miller’s face.

 

“I can worry about that later. Right now I need to get you out of here.”

 

Clarke doesn’t understand the urgency in his tone, or why he’s so worried about _her_ when his Dad is probably here, wondering if he’s alive, and— “What are you talking about?”

 

Miller scowls, pulling her through a throng of people before they slow to a stop, and he turns to face her. “A long time ago Bellamy made me promise that if there was ever a choice, I’d put you first.”

 

Clarke’s throat dries up, and she honestly can’t think of a single thing to say. Her first reaction is to be angry, because how can Bellamy possibly think that she’s more important than anyone else?! Her second reaction is strangely the need to cry, because she can’t sit here and look at Miller, one of the people she trusts the most, and know that he would give himself up for her.

 

“You’re our leader, Clarke. You and Bellamy. If only one of us can get out of here, it needs to be you, especially if someone from the Ark is going to camp to try to get everyone else. One of you needs to make it out.”

 

“But your Dad probably—“

 

“I’m officially not listening to you,” Miller decides, and begins tugging her forward again.

 

“Nathan,” she says, and the use of his first name and the tone she uses has him stopping again, looking at her over his shoulder. “You’re a good friend,” she tells him, even though that seems totally inadequate for what he means to the 100 and what he means to her and Bellamy. “Thank you.”

 

Miller opens his mouth to reply, but they’re cut off again by a new voice calling after Clarke, and Miller rolls his eyes. “Christ, Clarke, how many people do you—“

 

“ _Clarke_ ,” the voice calls again, sounding out of breath, and Clarke stops in her tracks, her body going tense.

 

“Wells,” she breathes, and before she can turn around, she is enveloped in a hug so tight she swears her bones crack. “Wells,” she says again, pulling away to look at him, his face and arms littered with scrapes, but otherwise he looks unharmed.

 

“Where are you going? Everyone is—“

 

“We have to be going, so if you’ll excuse us,” Miller cuts in, his voice dry and full of sarcasm, and Wells startles like he didn’t notice there was anyone else there but Clarke.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“We have to get back to our camp,” Clarke says, “Wells, listen to me. We have a truce with the people who are native here.”

 

Wells’ eyes go wide at the mention of the Grounders.

 

“You can’t let anyone break that truce. Please, tell your Dad not to let anyone leave the camp until we can confer with the Grounders. They said anyone who tests a boundary will be taken as prisoner. Please, Wells,” Clarke’s voice is desperate, bordering on frantic.

 

“I’ll tell him, but I don’t understand—“

 

“I’ll explain it all later, I promise,” Clarke says, hugging him one more time before she turns back to Miller, nodding at him, and the two of them leave, walking briskly into the woods before anyone can tell them to come back.

 

.

.

.

 

“I’m sorry, but we’re not going anywhere with you,” Bellamy says to Kane, his tone indicating that he is _not_ sorry.

 

Kane’s face hardens, “You seem to be under the impression that this is up for negotiation.”

 

No one in camp moves, no one hardly even breathes, and Bellamy’s mind is whirring trying to figure out what to do here. He doesn’t want to cause a panic, not really, but he can’t see any future that turns out good for the members of the 100 if they go with Kane.

 

“You sent us down here to live. We’re doing that. This is our home. We don’t want to leave.” Octavia says, on Bellamy’s left, and he tenses as Kane’s gaze settles on her.

 

“You are citizens of the Ark—“

 

“We stopped being citizens when you decided we were expendable!” Harper shouts from the back of the crowd that is slowly forming around Bellamy. If Bellamy weren’t so tense, he would feel his heart swelling at the sight of all these kids surrounding him protectively.

 

“These are your friends?” A new voice sounds, and Bellamy’s grip on his gun tightens when he sees Anya and a small contingency of Grounders coming from the back of the camp — they must have come through one of the tunnels. “They don’t seem very friendly,” she says, and she’s smirking at him, and he would roll his eyes, but he’s too busy watching as the Ark Guard trains their guns on the newcomers.

 

“Stand down,” Bellamy growls, “these people are allies.”

 

“We don’t want any trouble,” Kane says slowly, as if speaking to someone who doesn’t speak English.

 

“It seems to me you are trying to kidnap a group of people. That sounds like trouble.” Anya is standing next to Bellamy now, and for the first time, he feels the weight of their alliance on his shoulders — he feels twice as safe with Anya and her guards next to him, and knows that Kane is feeling uneasy. For once, the 100 have the upper hand.

 

“We have a truce with them. That’s what Clarke and Miller were on their way to tell you,” Bellamy says, glaring at Kane. “They left four days ago and no one has seen them. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

 

Something flickers over Kane’s face at the mention of his friends, and Bellamy’s blood boils. Before he can think, he’s got his arm pressed against Kane’s throat, his knife just barely knicking the man’s adam’s apple.

 

“Bellamy—“ A voice, Harper, he thinks, shouts for him, but he can’t say anything, can’t even breathe, because suddenly it feels like he’s being electrocuted from the waist up, and he loses his footing, falling to his knees as he hisses in pain, body contorting away from what he can see is Major Byrne’s stun baton.

 

“Bellamy!” Octavia’s voice cuts through the din of voices he can hear, but he’s dazed, not able to make sense of anything due to the pain in his back.

 

He hears weapons being unsheathed, and he knows the Grounders are prepared to defend the 100, but he doesn’t want a war — he knows that the Grounders can’t withstand the entire power of the Ark Guard, no matter how big their numbers are. He’s a different person than he was when they first crashed to the ground, and doesn’t want a war. He doesn’t want any more violence, not when his sister is right there and he can’t protect her.

 

“Stop,” he croaks, getting Anya’s attention, and he struggles to his feet, feeling Octavia come closer and grip his arm.

 

“Attacking the Vice Chancellor is punishable by death,” Byrne spits at him, and he glares right back.

 

“Your laws don’t mean anything here,” Anya says, and for a terrifying moment, Bellamy is afraid that Byrne is going to turn the baton on _her_ , but she puts it away after Kane holds up his hand. They all just stare at each other in silence, no one moving, no one daring to make the first move.

 

Bellamy’s mind is still whirring, trying to figure out his next move, when he sees a flash of color out of the corner of his eye, and when he turns towards the gate, his heart basically stops beating when he recognizes Clarke and Miller limping into camp, Miller’s eyes narrowed when he sees Kane and the Guard.

 

They both stop, taking in the scene before them, but then Clarke’s eyes latch onto his, and her whole body seems to relax, her shoulders slumping as she exhales. “Bellamy.” She says, and it’s just his name, just one word, but the weight it carries seems to travel through him, right to his bones, and before he knows what’s happening, he has his arms full of Clarke Griffin.

 

.

.

.

.

 

“Clarke,” he says roughly, his voice muffled by her hair, and Clarke bites back a grin, because as relieved as she is to see him, she knows that if he’s calling her by her first name, the situation must be serious.

 

“They kept us there, they locked us up, they—“ She says, gripping his arms.

 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Bellamy says, eyes full of concern as they meet hers.

 

Bellamy breaks her gaze, and when he turns towards Miller, Clarke feels a hand on her elbow turning her around. Thinking it’s someone from the Ark, she flinches, and she turns around just in time to see a hurt look flicker across Finn’s face. “Sorry,” she mutters, “Sorry, I’m just—“

 

“I wanted to go look for you,” he tells her, and Clarke frowns, because, yeah, they were gone four days, but Raven is _right there_ and she can’t take the wide-eyed, pleading look on Finn’s face for one more second, not when they clearly have bigger problems to deal with.

 

“If you’re all finished,” Anya interrupts loudly, and Clarke feels her face grow hot under the stare of the Grounder woman. “I believe we were discussing the terms of our treaty.” Her steely gaze goes back to Kane. “You are encroaching on my territory.”

 

Kane’s eyes harden, “We haven’t—“

 

“It doesn’t matter.” Anya’s voice is pure ice, and leaves no room for argument, and Clarke is so grateful that they were able to make this truce in the first place, that they were able to form friendships with these people, and judging by the look on Kane’s face, she knows that would never be possible if they had come down with the Ark.

 

“We have a treaty with _these people_ ,” she says slowly, nodding towards Bellamy and Clarke, “not you.”

 

“Is that a threat?” Kane asks, his voice sounding so smug that Clarke wants to take his baton and beat him with it until he understands that not everything has to be so militaristic.

 

“It’s a promise,” Anya says, a sarcastic smile on her face, “that if you do anything to break the treaty that these people have brokered for you, you will regret it.”

 

With that, she turns, and her small guard follows her back into the woods, towards their camp. Left alone, Clarke is afraid that Kane will arrest her and Bellamy on the spot. Looking towards her co-leader, she frowns when she sees him wincing and placing his hand on his lower back tentatively over his shirt.

 

“You’re hurt,” she says, and frowns again before turning back to Kane. “What did you do?”

 

“Clarke—“ Bellamy tries to interrupt, but Clarke beats him to the punch and reaches for the hem of his shirt, sucking in a breath when she lifts it slightly in order to see the red, raised skin where the baton struck him through his shirt.

 

Bellamy exhales hard when Clarke’s fingers graze the burn, and Clarke suddenly wants to cry. She probably would, if it wasn’t for how angry she is. “Get out,” she orders, her voice pitched low, her eyes darting to Kane. “Get out of my camp _right now_ , or so help me—“

 

“Easy, princess,” Bellamy murmurs.

 

For a minute, no one moves. Clarke glares at Kane and Byrne, daring either one of them to make a move, and she can feel Bellamy radiating tension from where he stands slightly behind her. She hopes that he can’t notice the way her hands are shaking. From fear over what could have happened to him while she was gone or pure anger, she doesn’t know.

 

“I said get out,” Clarke says again, and Kane gives her a long hard look before turning on his heel and taking the guards with him.

 

Clarke only lets out a sigh of relief once they’ve gone through the gates and the kids on watch are back at their posts. No one seems to know what to do — they’re all just milling around, watching Bellamy and Clarke warily out of the corner of their eyes.

 

“Get back to work,” Bellamy barks suddenly, causing Clarke to jump slightly. He turns to Clarke, his eyes dark. “I want to know everything that happened while they kept you there,” he says, and Clarke winces. Bellamy notices, and his glare grows harder, if possible. “What? What’s that look for?”

 

“You… you should ask Miller about what happened. He’ll have more answers for you than I will.”

 

“Care to explain why that is, princess?” Bellamy asks, his voice sounding more and more dangerous the longer Clarke goes without giving him a straight answer. She knows him though, knows that he’ll fly off the handle, and she needs to check his wound before he goes storming around camp in a bad mood for the foreseeable future.

 

Clarke takes a deep breath. “We were attacked by the Guard when we got to the crash site. Miller… Miller tried to fight them off, but they hit me before I could see what happened, and then they sedated us. I woke up in medical with Miller and we were locked in.”

 

Bellamy doesn’t say anything for a long time, he just looks at the ground, but Clarke can see the muscle in the side of his jaw ticking as he takes in what she’s told him. “Your mom didn’t try to stop any of that?”

 

Clarke swallows hard, “She didn’t mention anything about it when I saw her. I didn’t see her for long though,” she adds in a rush, “As soon as we could, Miller and I came back here.”

 

Bellamy sighs, “I’m not doubting your loyalty, Clarke,” he says softly. “I… I was worried about you.” The look in his eyes is unreadable as he meets her gaze, and Clarke doesn’t know what to do with the sudden eruption of butterflies that take fight in her stomach. Shaking his head, Bellamy clears his throat. “I probably need you to look at this,” he says, gesturing towards the burn on his lower back.

 

“In the dropship,” Clarke says quietly, ignoring the feeling of his eyes on her as she starts off, not looking to see if he’s following her.

 

.

.

.

.

 

Bellamy doesn’t know what’s worse — getting shock lashed by the guard, or knowing that his two closest friends were basically unconscious while the Ark did who knows what.

 

He still can’t make sense of it. Why would they attack them? Surely someone on the guard would have recognized Clarke, and maybe even Miller — Miller’s Dad was still an officer, after all. And then there was the guard coming to the dropship. Bellamy knew that once the Ark came to the ground, it was all going to go to hell, but he never expected them to be so demanding about the kids coming back to the Ark.

 

“The Ark is in total disarray,” Clarke says quietly while she cleans his burn, as if she’s reading his thoughts. “It doesn’t make sense for us to go back there.”

 

"Why do you think they want us back so bad?" Bellamy asks, watching as she tears some bandages.

 

"Because they don't want to give up their power," Clarke muses. "They like their antiquated ways.

 

We don't fit into their society anymore now that we're on the ground." He hisses as Clarke touches a cloth soaked in moonshine to his burn, and she makes a small noise under her breath. "Sorry, I know it hurts. I can't... I can't believe they did this to you."

 

"I can," Bellamy says through his teeth. "They still think we're criminals." Clarke stops what she's doing and she looks at him for a long time, the look in her eyes something that he doesn't want to read too much into. It's scary but also gives him so much hope, but he doesn't dare read into it. People like Clarke Griffin don't care for people like Bellamy Blake, at least that's what he's convinced himself of. "Did they hurt you? At the crash site?" He asks her, glancing at the bruise on the side of her temple.

 

"Not really." She glances at him before moving behind him to put a salve on the burn that feels amazing against the heat radiating off the wound. "Miller got it worse, I think."

 

"What did you tell them?"

 

"We told them we wanted to leave. That we had... people here that we needed to get back to." Bellamy studies her, the way her hands are still slightly shaking as she works around the table he's half sitting, half leaning on. He reminds himself to check with Miller, to make sure Miller knows how much his loyalty is worth.

 

"What are we going to do, Clarke?"

 

She shakes her head, then turns around and faces him. "We have to stand up for what we believe in," she says. "I can't go back and live with my mother. I can't go back there knowing that she had a hand in getting my Dad..." she trails off and Bellamy wants to hold her. The thought is jarring.

 

"We have to let the other kids decide," Bellamy says slowly. "We have to find out whose parents survived the landing and let them decide."

 

Clarke nods. "What if they don't let us stay?"

 

"Princess, they're going to have to drag me out of here in cuffs if they think I'm going back to being a janitor." Bellamy's voice is firm, and he knows without a doubt that he's not going back to his old life.

 

.

.

.

.

 

Two more days pass before they hear anything else from the Ark. They're spent in relative unease, everyone milling around almost as if they're waiting for the other shoe to drop and Kane to storm back in, arresting all of them.

 

Clarke checks over Miller's ribs and patches up a few scrapes as she tries to keep herself busy. It's midday before Monroe shouts that there's someone at the gate, and Bellamy orders everyone in the dropship unless they're on patrol. Miller, Octavia and Raven stay with he and Clarke as they prepare to fight off the Ark.

 

When the gate opens, there's just one person standing on the other side, and Clarke lets out a relieved breath when she sees who it is. "Wells," she says, and runs in his direction before she can think anything else. She feels his arms go around her and for a moment she forgets that she's on the ground, that all her people are surrounding them, watching them.

 

"Clarke?" Bellamy's voice breaks her out of her reverie and when she lets go of Wells and turns to her co-leader, he's got a stormy look on his face, his mouth turned down at the corners.

 

"Bellamy, this is Wells Jaha--"

 

"I know who he is."

 

Clarke stares at Bellamy, trying to understand his tone. She knows how he feels about the privileged people on the Ark, how he once felt about her and how he probably still feels about Wells. Even so, she hasn’t seen him look at her like this since they landed on the ground, and she can’t help but feel hurt by it.

 

“Okay…” Wells says slowly, looking between the two of them, “Look, as happy as I am to see you, Clarke, I’m here for a reason.”

 

Clarke’s smile fades as she looks at her childhood best friend. “Your dad sent you?”

 

“And your mom. They want me to talk some sense into you. Into all of you.” Wells looks around at the small group standing with Clarke and Bellamy. “I don’t want any trouble,” he says quietly, eyeing the guns strapped to Bellamy and Miller’s backs.

 

Clarke shuts her eyes tight in frustration, feeling a headache starting to form.

 

“That’s funny, considering you being here is the literally the meaning of the word ‘trouble’,” Raven says dryly.

 

Wells is looking around, almost in awe at the small structures that they’ve managed to start building along with their tents and the dropship. When he looks back at Clarke, he has a funny look in his eyes, and Clarke knows that while her mother and his father might have sent him here, she _knows_ Wells.

 

He would have come here eventually.

 

“Can I talk to you alone?” He asks her, and her eyes find Bellamy’s, waiting for his slight nod.

 

“We’ll go in the comms tent,” she says, and ignores the way Wells’ is giving her a knowing look after witnessing her exchange with Bellamy. “Don’t start,” she says, and he laughs.

 

“I didn’t say anything.”

 

Leading him into the tent, she holds open the flap so he can walk through, and gestures to a few crates that they’ve been using as makeshift benches around the table they made for the center of the room. Now that Wells is here, she’s seeing everything through new eyes. It really is amazing that they’ve made it this far, and she feels pride swell up inside of her as she watches her friend take it all in.

 

“How did you find your way here alone?”

 

Wells smiles, “The guard are terrible at covering up their tracks.”

 

Clarke grins, “You always were the best at earth skills.”

 

“I told my Dad about your truce.” Wells looks at her carefully, and for a minute she sees a mirror image of his father. “They want more information, but they’re planning on using it as leverage to get you all to come back to the Ark.”

 

“How can we even go back there?” Clarke blurts, “The Ark literally just crash landed! They’re not stable enough to support 100 teenagers—“

 

“They don’t care about that,” Wells says suddenly, “All they’re thinking is that you’re citizens of the Ark, and right now you’re rebelling against them—“

 

“They sent us down here! They told us we were expendable and sent us down here like we meant nothing!” Clarke’s voice is high and urgent, and Wells is looking at her like he’s never seen her before. “Look,” she says, taking a deep breath to try to calm herself down, “I know you, Wells, but I know your dad too. He sent you here to talk to me thinking that our friendship would be enough to convince me to abandon my people, but—“

 

“What about your mom?”

 

Clarke looks down at the floor, trying to fight the tears that she can feel forming. “Wells, my mom turned my dad in. She’s the reason he got floated. I know it. I can’t go back there.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Clarke smiles at him, tries to keep the tears from showing, but the sympathetic look on Wells’ face tells her she’s not being very successful. “It’s not your fault.”

 

The flap of the tent rustles and then Miller is poking his head in, “Bellamy wants to—“ he stops when he sees Clarke’s face, his eyes narrowing as he sees a tear escape and make a trail down her cheek. “Everything okay in here?”

 

“We’re fine. Wells needs to stay here for the night,” Clarke says, and Miller nods.

 

“We’ve got an extra set of furs he can use. I’ll put him up in the dropship.”

 

Wells turns back to her after Miller leaves. “Quite the operation you’re running here, Clarke,” he says, and though there’s a teasing quality to his voice, she knows he means it.

 

“We had to. We never would have survived down here if Bellamy—“

 

“What’s the deal with you and Bellamy anyway?” Wells interrupts.

 

“What are you talking about? We’re co-leaders.”

 

Wells looks like he doesn’t believe her, but he doesn’t say anything, and she’s grateful. Wells knows her better than just about anyone else, but she knows her time on the ground has changed her. She knows that he’s searching somewhere for the girl who used to play chess with him, and that person is almost nonexistent now.

 

“What are you going to tell your Dad?” She asks, trying to change the subject.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Clarke reaches for Wells’ hand and squeezes. “You could live here, Wells. You don’t have to do everything he tells you to anymore.”

 

“It’s not that easy—“

 

“It’s easier than you think. Just… at least think about it, okay?” Clarke asks, her face open and pleading.

 

“Sure, Clarke.” He tells her, but it doesn’t do anything to reassure Clarke.

 

.

.

.

.

 

Bellamy is pacing outside the comms tent when Clarke comes out. He tries not to make it look so obvious that he was waiting for her, but he can’t get anything past her these days, especially not when he knows he looks worried.

 

“Well?”

 

“Hello Clarke,” she says sarcastically, “Care to share with me what your friend said, Clarke? Oh, of course Bellamy, let’s sit and talk—“

 

“ _Clarke_.”

 

She narrows her eyes at him, “I never thought I’d see him again. He’s my best friend. Sorry if I took too long trying to convince myself that he’s actually alive.”

 

Bellamy pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “Can we not do this? I didn’t mean anything by it.” Clarke doesn’t say anything, just looks anywhere but at him, so he continues, crossing his arms over his chest. “What did Wells have to say?”

 

“You heard him before, the Chancellor wants us to come back to the Ark. They think we’re going through a rebellious stage.” She rolls her eyes, and Bellamy wants to laugh, even though he’s too tired to muster up a sound.

 

Both of them are quiet for a few moments, looking around the camp, and Bellamy tries to picture what it would be like if he went back to the Ark. He tries to think about what would happen to him, to his sister, to his friends, and he can’t. He can’t picture another life. Not one where he has to live under their rules.

 

Suddenly he has a vision of Clarke going back. He knows how good life was for Clarke on the Ark, so why would she want to stay here where she lives in a tent, sleeping on the ground every night? Hell, if he were in her shoes, he couldn’t even blame her. It doesn’t stop him from feeling like the ground is swallowing him up.

 

“We need to get a list of everyone’s parents who made it to the ground. The young kids will be wondering.” Bellamy says, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

 

“Bellamy, we have to tell Wells—“

 

“I think you can handle it, can’t you, princess?” He says, taking a few steps backward, away from her.

 

He starts walking to the dropship, and doesn’t turn back, even when she calls after him a few times, even when he thinks he hears her voice break over his name.

 

.

.

.

.

 

Wells goes back to the Ark the next day. Clarke instructs him to tell his father that if they want a formal agreement with the 100 about citizenship, then the Chancellor himself needs to come here to broker a deal with Clarke and Bellamy.

 

Wells seems conflicted about playing both sides, but Clarke convinces him to go. The 100 won’t be respected as their own settlement if they let the adults tell them what to do. They’ve got the support of the grounders and need to make sure that the treaty holds. The only way they can do that is to have the Ark as allies, too.

 

Clarke doesn’t sleep much that night. She spends the night chewing on her fingernails, wondering what Wells told his father, wondering about her mother, and wondering how long it would be before the guard shows up and tries to arrest everyone and take them back to the Ark against their will. She doesn’t want to think it’ll come to that, but she knows she needs to be realistic.

 

Bellamy is avoiding her.

 

She’s been trying not to think about that either. She’s not exactly sure what she did to upset him, but there’s a tone in his voice when he talks to her that hasn’t been there for a long time. He calls her ‘princess’ more and more, and it’s sharp and biting.

 

She doesn’t like it.

 

She misses him, honestly. She misses the friend that she discovered. She misses the easy way she can talk to him about anything, and she misses the way that he knows what she’s thinking before she even thinks it.

 

The implications of these kinds of thoughts scare Clarke, and she tries not to dwell on what it might mean that she misses Bellamy even though he hasn’t gone anywhere, but the fact is that they’re not as effective as leaders when they’re apart. It’s a lot of ‘go talk to Clarke’ ‘but she told me to talk to you’, and the kids are getting frustrated. Especially the youngest ones.

 

The youngest ones want Bellamy to take them to the lake, and they want Clarke to come. Bellamy conveniently forgets to relay that message to Clarke, and then suddenly she has a handful of sad ten year olds to deal with when they come back from swimming.

 

Tossing and turning, Clarke finally gives up and rolls out of bed, reaching for her boots. She pulls them on and heads out of her tent, making sure to have her knife with her tucked into her shoe. After she does a quick check of the perimeter and checks in with the kids on guard, she stops at the dropship.

 

There’s a light on inside, and while that’s not unusual, it is strange to hear someone muttering to themselves. Usually people can find what they’re looking for pretty quickly, and if they can’t, they come to get her, even if it’s the middle of the night.

 

Cautiously, Clarke walks inside, and stops in her tracks in relief when she sees Bellamy and Octavia.

 

“I know enough first aid, but I don’t know how to help you with this, Bell,” Octavia is saying, and Bellamy rolls his eyes.

 

“I just need you to put some of that burn cream on it. How hard can it be?”

 

“Apparently it’s really hard, considering that you flinch every time I touch it! What does Clarke normally do for this?” She asks, and Bellamy’s jaw clenches.

 

“I don’t know. She does it with my back to her.”

 

“Remind me why I’m in here and not her?”

 

“You’re like an intern, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you know this? Maybe Clarke needs to reevaluate what she’s teaching you—“

 

Clarke steps out of the shadow, catching Octavia’s eyes. “I didn’t see the need to teach anyone about how to treat shock lash burns considering I didn’t plan on ever seeing one again.” She says, gesturing for Octavia to give her the burn cream. “I can take over from here. Thanks, O.”

 

Octavia smiles at the familiar nickname, and practically skips out of the dropship. “If you ever wake me up in the middle of the night again,” she calls to Bellamy, “this place better be burning down. I need my beauty sleep!”

 

Clarke smiles at the younger girl’s antics, but then scowls at Bellamy when she sees his burn. It’s healing, but looks red around the edges, not a good sign. “You should have come to me with this sooner,” she chastises.

 

“I didn’t… You were busy.”

 

“Bullshit,” Clarke says, watching a brief look of surprise flit over Bellamy’s features. “You’ve been avoiding me ever since Wells left.”

 

Bellamy doesn’t say anything, but he winces when she applies the burn cream using an extra bandage. After the cream is on, she puts a fresh bandage over the mark, the cream allowing it to stick to his skin.

 

“We can’t keep going like this, Bellamy. Haven’t we already figured that out? What did I do that’s making you ignore an injury?” She must sound genuinely hurt, because Bellamy turns slightly to face her.

 

“You didn’t do anything,” he tells her, but the ‘yet’ that he didn’t say hangs in the air between them.

 

“What do you think is going to happen?”

 

Bellamy’s eyes are dark in the dimly lit room when he meets her eyes again, and Clarke finds that she can’t look away, even though the intensity she sees there is enough to frighten her.

 

“You’re going to leave.” He says it bluntly, like it’s so obvious, and Clarke would laugh at the absurdity of it if her heart didn’t feel like it was cracking. “You’re going to go with Jaha Junior and go back to the Ark, where you’re taken care of. Why wouldn’t you?” He spits, his voice bitter.

 

“Why— what— Why would you _think_ that? After everything we’ve been through?” Clarke asks incredulously.

 

“Why would you _stay_?” Bellamy counters, and Clarke wants to smack him.

 

“You’re an idiot. Take care of your burn on your own.”

 

“Clarke—“ Bellamy reaches for her, catching her wrist as she tries to storm out of the dropship. “Wait.”

 

“Why? I thought you wanted me to go!”

 

“No!” He nearly shouts, and it startles Clarke, makes her freeze where she’s standing. “I don’t want you to go. That’s the _problem_ , Clarke. I don’t want you to go, and I _hate_ thinking about you moving there and leaving us all behind.”

 

“What are you _talking_ about? I never said anything about going back there. I wouldn’t—“ Clarke stops herself, forces herself to lower her voice. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Or the others. I couldn’t.”

 

Bellamy is just staring at her, his mouth slightly open, and before she can even process what the look on his face means, he’s tugging on her wrist, causing her to collide with him, and then his free hand slides into her hair, and he kisses her.

 

He kisses her like this is the last time he’s ever going to see her, and it makes her heart soar and break all at the same time. He kisses her like he’s desperate for it, like she’s the air he needs to breathe, and she’s not surprised to find herself reciprocating in kind. She thinks she’s wanted this for a long time, that this was a path they were always headed down, even if she didn’t realize it.

 

When they break apart for air, Clarke is standing in between Bellamy’s legs, both of them struggling to get the air they need into their lungs. “Don’t go,” Bellamy breathes, “I can’t do this by myself, and I can’t lose someone else that I—“

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Clarke says, taking his face between her hands and forcing him to look at her, to see the truth in her eyes. “I’m staying.”

 

.

.

.

.

 

Bellamy makes the now-familiar trek to the Ark for the bi-weekly council meeting, hoping to catch Kane before he starts his training for the day. The dropship is running low on usable targets for rifle practice, and while they’re not anticipating having to use them anytime soon, Bellamy would much rather them be prepared just in case.

 

It’s been two months since he and Clarke negotiated for the 100’s freedom. They wanted, under no conditions, to be a free settlement with no attachments to the Ark. Only a few kids had elected to go back to their parents, so Clarke and Bellamy wanted the treaty between them and the Ark to be as open-ended as possible, in order for kids to come and go as they pleased.

 

The transition went a lot smoother once Wells told his father that he wanted to live with the other kids his age, and closer to Clarke. It was a lot easier to broker a deal when the Chancellor’s son was the main bargaining chip. Bellamy still thinks the success was all Clarke, though. She was brilliant — standing up to Kane, her mother and Jaha all in one fell swoop. She and Bellamy shook hands with the surviving members of the council that day, and now the dropship is its own independent settlement.

 

They have a trade agreement with the Ark, mostly for resources like technology and bits of scrap metal from the engineers. Clarke also spends time going back and forth between camps to help her mother in the medbay at the Ark, and in turn, her mother comes with her to the grounder camp once a week to provide more advanced medical treatment to people there. It isn’t ideal, but it’s helping Clarke mend the bridges between her and her mother, and that’s all Bellamy can ask for.

 

Since the night in the dropship, he and Clarke are no longer avoiding each other. He’s stopped trying to run from his feelings, and she’s done the same, and it’s beyond words to Bellamy. He never thought he would find someone like Clarke, someone who is his equal in every way, someone who challenges him and supports him at the same time. He wakes every day to her hair in his face and her arms tight around him and wonders how he got so lucky.

 

“Blake,” Kane’s voice shakes him out of his thoughts, and Bellamy grips the older man’s hand firmly. They’ve come a long way from Kane giving the order for Bellamy to be arrested and shock lashed in the middle of his own camp. Their working relationship isn’t perfect, but it’s as good as it’s going to get. Kane has been helping Bellamy oversee hand-to-hand training for the older members of the 100, and Bellamy comes once a week to help train men and women from the Ark to hunt safely.

 

Overall, the transition is smooth. There are still arguments and kinks that need to be worked out between the two groups, but Bellamy knows without a doubt that it could be worse. The first month was strained — Bellamy still angry over Clarke and Miller being held captive, and Clarke’s mother angry about her refusal to return to the Ark. In the best interest of their two people, however, everyone put their personal feelings aside.

 

“Some of the men caught a few deer this morning. We’re hoping to get the lesson on how to skin them today.”

 

Bellamy nods, “I can do that.”

 

Bellamy hears a rustle in the trees behind him, and can’t help the small smile that comes across his face when Clarke emerges, a leaf stuck in her hair and a scowl on her face.

 

“You could have woken me up,” she grumbles, coming to stand near him as Kane looks on, an amused smile on his face. “Vice Chancellor,” Clarke greets sourly.

 

“Miss Griffin. I have to be going. Bellamy, we’re going to the open area near the medbay when you’re ready.”

 

Bellamy turns back to Clarke and steps closer, invading her personal space. “You look thoroughly ravished, princess.”

 

Clarke blushes, “Shut up. You let me sleep in.”

 

“Correction: I let you sleep after _you_ woke me up very early because you just couldn’t wait another minute to—“

 

Clarke claps her hand over his mouth, though her eyes are sparkling. “Do not finish that sentence if you value your life. There are kids around,” she scolds.

 

“Yes, princess.” Bellamy says, laughing when she rolls her eyes and stomps away from him. “Have a good day, sweetheart!” He shouts, and can practically feel Clarke’s glare from halfway across the camp.

 

When he first came to Earth, it was nothing like he expected. Clarke was a surprise to him, as was nearly everything else they’ve come across, but he knows one thing: as long as they’re together, they can handle whatever earth throws their way. No matter what, as long as he has Clarke, he has everything he’ll ever need on the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> come cry with me on [tumblr](http://dreamingundone.tumblr.com)!


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